


Weak Point

by Folieacutie



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan
Genre: Angst, BAMF Annabeth Chase, F/M, Fight Scene, Percy doesnt remember Annabeth AU, percy still has the curse of achilles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-09
Updated: 2020-04-09
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:27:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23566063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Folieacutie/pseuds/Folieacutie
Summary: He is not her Percy. He is not about to turn to her and give her a big, cheesy smile. He’s going to slice her through with Riptide.AU where Percy doesn’t remember Annabeth, he still has the Curse of Achilles, and the battle between Greeks and Romans has just broken out.
Relationships: Annabeth Chase/Percy Jackson
Comments: 12
Kudos: 184





	Weak Point

Among the sharp, sizzling clash of metal against bodies, Romans against Greeks, she sees him: Praetor Perseus Jackson.

For a second her mind conjures Luke. Oh, how easily she had convinced herself he was still the Luke she considered family…until those golden eyes locked on hers, and she realized that Luke had eroded. He was nearly unrecognizable. 

Nearly. She had known there was still a small part left, deep down, which made it so gutwrenching but had also ended the war. 

Annabeth feels the same hollowed-out pain as she did then, except worse. Percy hadn’t chosen this. They had made all the right choices, had been on the Gods side, and yet…

Praetor Jackson cackles as he tears through rows of Greek demigods. His skin glistens, unharmed.

Part of her crumbles inside. The other part blocks an arrow from ripping through her skull.

It ricochets off her blade. She calls over her shoulder, “Jason! I’m going.”

“Annabeth, you can’t, he’s practically unstoppable-”

“I have to try.”

The world is blurry and hot, motions blending as tears build. She can’t tell if they stream down her face or not while she hacks her way towards him, through the chaos of Roman and Greek demigods fighting.

Part of her wants to avoid him forever, knowing what she does now.

He doesn’t recognize her. He doesn’t remember. He is not her Percy. He is not about to turn to her and give her a big, cheesy smile. He’s going to slice her through with Riptide.

Annabeth’s chest feels like it’s on fire. Her gut twists as if a blade has already gashed her open.

In her peripheral there’s a worried shout, “Annabeth! Don’t!”

She continues forward.

She slams a roman demigod out of the way and-

There is Praetor Perseus Jackson.

His sword arcs. Purple robes flutter around him, his eyes flash with danger.

She’s seen that look before, though never directed towards her, or to that extent, so void of compassion. He is the darkest part of the tumultuous sea.

He tosses a Greek camper to the side with the hilt of his sword and lunges.

The only thing that keeps her unscathed is over a decade of training. And, the fact that she knows him better than anyone else in the world, Roman brainwashing or not.

 _He hadn’t killed the other camper. He had merely immobilized them._ A glimmer of hope burns inside of her.

She deflects Riptide’s slashes, gaining a mark on her shoulder- not a stab wound.

Annabeth tries to say his name but it lodges in her throat. It's the nickname he wouldn't know he has. It sears her teeth, acidic, devouring. She braces against his attacks though her limbs shake.

The glow of celestial bronze glints off his skin. His hair wilts onto his forehead with sweat. There it is, the one gray curl. It’s still the same as hers. Annabeth’s heart latches onto it.

“Percy-” The name spirals out alongside her knife, a desperate motion.

His eyes sharpen, brow furrowed.

Annabeth clings to the fantasy of him stopping, blinking at her, dropping Riptide, kissing-

He blocks her knife and hurtles his sword at her chest.

The flat of his blade crashes into the armor above her ribs. For a moment all air seizes out of her body. She lurches over. In a blink, his sword rushes towards her owl helmet-

She follows her momentum down and rolls out of the way.

All it gains her is a bit of distance. Annabeth hobbles to her feet, sidesteps another body and tries to breathe. Tears sear through her.

But she moves to attack again before he can charge someone else. Their blades meet.

He almost sighs in annoyance. “Should’ve guessed a daughter of _Athena_ wouldn’t give up so easily. Battle strategy and all that, right?”

It’s not the teasing tone Percy would use. There’s malice in it.

Her knife’s grip is slick against her palm. The same one he held on their date in Paris. “You have to stop the fighting, stop the camps fighting.” She chokes out. Gods, he used to press kisses to her forehead before they fell asleep together.

Their weapons skid apart with a _shink_.

“Oh yeah, and why exactly do I have to do that? You invaded _us,_ remember?”

He swings. She jerks back, the metal almost skimming her collarbone. Instead, the skin on her arm slices open. It stings. She sucks in a dry breath.

_Us, Remember?_

“Percy, please, you know us.” Annabeth looks into his eyes. “You know me-”

He huffs out a cold laugh. Ice water seems to slide down her spine.

“Are you _trying_ to die? Get out of my way.”

She shakes her head frantically, “I took a knife for you, in the war before, please, remember-”

“You should probably stop talking. Usually, people are smart enough not to lie to me.”

Anger jolts through her. It fills up her chest until her jaw tightens.

She spits in Perseus’ face.

He squabbles back.

Annabeth advances. “Tell me,” She yells, “Do you know where your heel is _, Praetor?!”_

He still thwarts her blow. “My _heel_?” He asks, incredulous.

“Your Achilles heel, you fucking idiot!” She slashes at him.

Probably no one else would notice it, but she catches the microscopic widening of his eyes, how his shoulders tense. A second later he’s lodging his spear at her again.

She dodges. If this were any other enemy she would’ve been smiling at her advantage. Instead, her lips quiver into a frown. Her chin wobbles.

“That’s pretty dangerous,” She taunts. She clenches her teeth to stop her voice from wavering _._ “Not knowing your weak point.”

He laughs again. It’s false, she can tell. “Maybe I don’t have one.”

They circle each other.

“Are you sure about that? No one but the Gods are fully invulnerable.”

“Maybe I’m as good as the Gods then.”

Zeus’ thunder shakes overhead.

“Try again.”

_He turned down godhood for a normal life. One with you._

Perseus rolls his eyes. The motion is so achingly familiar. “Well, good luck with finding out where it is.”

Annabeth meets his stare. She steadies herself. “I don’t have to find it.”

He freezes, just a little.

“I already know it.”

She surges forward. His sword comes up to her face. It doesn’t matter now. She turns it out of his grip and it clatters among the lashing bodies around them.

Annabeth looks at those eyes. They’re full of fear, unfamiliar yet the same stark green. She aims for his legs.

With a yelp, he falls. She’s on him as he scrambles. Her breathing is labored, painful, while she hits the back of his leg and pushes his chest to the floor. She grabs him by the hair and he lets out a strangled noise when she shoves her blade under his chin. Her knee presses right against the small of his back.

To anyone else it would look like she’s got him by the throat. They both know better.

His whole body is shuddering.

How long ago was it that he’d showed her this very spot? Right after she’d saved him? His hand had been so vulnerable in hers, he had been so concerned for her life…

She holds back the sobs raging against her ribcage.

“How- how do you know?” A cry crackles in his throat. Her knife bobs with his chin.

Annabeth leans down.

Her tears are hot when they fall onto the blood-splattered grass besides his ear. “Because you _told_ me, Seaweed brain.”

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry if the fight scene was terrible? It's SO hard to write fight scenes. Always thought of how sick (and angsty) it would be if Annabeth knew Percy's mortal point while he did not, and had to use it on him. Thought it would be smarter of her to show him she knew where it was while not making it obvious to everyone around them, hence how she still has her knife to his neck and not his back. Did that come across when reading?  
> Anyways, I'm not sure if I should continue this.......hm...
> 
> thanks for reading!!


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